Vanilla Girl's Story of a Nobody
by VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps
Summary: Hello there. My name is Riku Harada. And is basiclly just a boring story by me, about me. It's about my life and all, but then Mrs. Gorttam, the guidence counciler, tells me I have to babysit this stuck up Russian jerk. Stupid Russians... TalaOC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Beyblade doesn't belong to me and never will. It belongs to whoever made it (I don't know his name). The only character in this chapter/prologue that I own is Riku/Vanilla.

Warnings: Rambling on and on about useless subjects, language, etc.

Author's Note: I will only continue this story if people are actually reading it and tell me they want it continued. If you don't like it, don't read it. I already have the first one or two chapter's done, so I'll be posting them soon, as well. I have them done already because I'm taking this story from my account on Quizilla.

_Vanilla Girl's Story of a Nobody_

_By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps_

Incase you haven't already figured it out, I'm Riku Harada. I'm what you'd call a 'good girl'. I always do as I'm told and never think a bad thought. Come to think of it, I'm like a human puppet. Or at least I would be if I were human...

You see, I'm not human. I'm a demon. I'm not just any demon; I'm a cat demon. I know, I know, by my appearance you wouldn't think that at all. It's true, just unbelievable.

That's why I pretend to be a human and when people tell me I'm weird I just tell them they don't know the half of it. Truth be told, even other demons tell me I'm weird. They probably say that because of my appearance...

Looks can be very deceiving you know. One time I saw this guy that looked poor and homeless, so I watching as a little human kid gave him a dollar. He just laughed which made the kid cry. After she had run off to her mommy the man turned a corner and hopped into a limo. The man did look poor, though.

Fashion is so intolerable that it has to be altered ever six weeks. I agree with that completely... sometimes. Other times I just don't care. I never change the way I look just because some stranger doesn't think I look good.

Did I mention that I don't care what I look like? Did I mention that even though I'm a demon I don't use my powers for evil? Did I mention that I have no friends or family?

That's right. All the other demons I know are evil and I have nobody. You know what they say, no use crying over spilt milk. Yet again, I agree most of the times.

By now you're probably getting bored of me rambling. I know I am. That reminds me, I'm thirsty. Better get something before school starts...

What? Just 'cause I'm demon I can't go to human school? Well I can. Remember how I said that I'm a good girl and nobody believes that I'm a demon? Yeah, well that had a purpose.

Come to think of it, I'm not all that good. I'm just not as bad as most of the other demons. But what would you call dealing illegal drugs? It's good for the people buying and humans would do anything for them.

After all, they all think I'm a good girl that never has a single bad thought. You couldn't blame them. By the way I look I do look pretty normal. Although the people that have talked to me and have had a normal conversation with me think I'm really weird. Even the demons that know who I am and that I sell drugs.

Speaking about looks and appearances though may make you think I'm one of those blonde haired, blue eyed, skinny, big chested, bimbos'. Well I'm not. In fact, I have red shoulder length hair, emotionless, yet happy, cloudy brown eyes, and, very surprisingly, a drop dead gorgeous body.

I know what you're thinking. You're gorgeous and pretty and beautiful, you must have a boyfriend. No. Sorry to disappoint you, but remember when I said I had no friends? I wasn't fibbing.

Well, now to introduced myself... Hi, nice to meet you. Please call me Vanilla Girl. For some reason everybody does. But now I'm rambling and getting off subject.


	2. Tammy's Animals

_Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade and never will. In this chapter I own Vanilla, Mr. Clark, Tammy, Ms. Hunney, and Mrs. Gorttam._

_Warning: mild language, gayness, etc._

_Author's Note: Well, what do ya think so far? Make sure to tell me._

Chapter 2: Tammy's Animals

I was walking to school while looking down at the ground sadly. I clutched onto my small, black backpack tightly as I kept a slow pace. This was my morning routine:

1)Get up and get ready.  
2)Walk to school like I don't exsist.  
3)Get to school and go to the office.  
4)Go to class and sit in the back.

Thats basicly it. I could also give you a list of the rest of the day, but I don't really feel like it. Thats the thing about me; even though I'm in great shape and have a wonderful body, I don't want it.

Now I know your just staring at me now. Your probably saying things like: 'what?' and 'why not?' and 'I would kill for a body like yours'. Your probably saying that because you want boys to drool over you.

I don't want boys groping over me and I don't want them to wolf whistle and to drool. Personally I don't even want a friend, let alone a boyfriend. Anyways, I'm getting off subject and I should get back to my 'exciting' walk to school.

_2 check; now advancing to 3._

I like to check off my morning routine in my head. I don't find it strange, but then again, you might. You don't know me, not at all.

Anyways, so I climbed up the stairs to the large brick school. Boys and girls were still engaging in 'human contact' outside on the well managed green grass. Sometimes people would come up to me and start talking to me for no reason whats so ever.

As I walked into the air conditioned office I saw the usual things: a secretary, her computer, a sign in/sign out desk, some cushioned chairs, five large windows, a door leading to everything else ranging from the princable to the guidence counciler, and a billboard with many colorful pictures and papers on it.

I sat down in my usual seat and waited. I had an extra minute so went over to look at the board. I looked over to the bright blue paper hanging in the middle and pulled it down.

It said:

"10/25/93

Dear Facalty and Students,

I, your loving princable, would like to remind you that the animal shelter is closing down. This particular animal shelter is Tammy's Animals. They've got everything ranging from chicks to monkeys. So come today and adopt, adopt, adopt! Remember, the shelter closes Friday!

Sincerely,  
Pricable James F. Clark"

Gay, huh? Don't even get me started on the teachers. Its like they all just came out of the Happy Hotel. Tammy is a boy that used to be names Bob. He changed his name so that it wouldn't seem as awkward that him and Mr. Clark were dating.

Anyways, your probably wondering why I took the paper down, right? Well thats because, being a cat demon, I love that shelter and the things that inhabit it. They've got tigers, snakes, llamas, and everything else there. The best part is, you can adopt them.

"Excuse me, Miss Girl." Ms. Hunney, the secretary, called to me for the third time.

I stuffed the paper in the pocket of my lose red pants. I turned to her and replied with a nod.

"The counciler will see you now." and with that she was back to her computer game. Yes, computer game. Did I mention that all the teachers are gay?

Anyway, I pushed past the large oak door and walked down the freezing hallway. That hallway is probably colder than Alaska! Then again, Alaska isn't all that cold.

The hall was filled with numerous closed doors. Iwalked until I got to the end one. It was made of pure maple. I knocked on the door and went in.

Sitting with her clipboard was the guidence counciler, Mrs. Gorttam. Shes a small woman in the late 40's that cheats on her wife. She's the perfect example of one of the bimbos' i was talking about before.

"Hello, Vanilla," she said in her monotone hippy voice, "how are you today?"

I sat down in the lumpy leather chair that was across from hers and took the thick black note book out of it. I also tool out a dark blue papermate erasable pen. I opened the notebook and wrote my answer: _same as always_.

Did i mention I'm a mute? Did I mention I'm the only mute in Nightmare High School? Did I mention thats its real name? No? Oops, my bad.

When I say 'same as always' I mean fine. Even though people don't know it, thats my own secret code. It stands for:

F-Fucked up  
I-Insecure  
N-Nervous  
E-Emotional

Nobody knows, of course.

"Well thats good. I think I have a way to get you some friends." She said happily reaching over and patting me on the knee twice. After that she just kept her hand there for a second then finally moved away.

I wasn't comfortable with this. I never am. I don't know if its because shes lesbo or because I hate her with all my heart.

To make matters worse she then got up and sat in the chair next to me. I took my pen and wrote under what I had just wrote: _I don't want friends and I don't want you touching me_.

She didn't look at it until I shoved it into her large, boney hands. She just stared at it for a second then handed it back and sighed. She then continued, "There's a new boy coming to this school today. His name is Tala and he's from Russia. He is the captain of a beyblading team, but his team mates are all being sent to different schools." She waited for my reaction.

_No_. Was all that I wrote in my notebook. Class was going to start any minute so I quickly and quietly got up and left.


	3. Challenging Stares

_Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. I do own Vanilla, Mrs. Gorttam, Ms. Hunney, Mr. L, and the Huge Crew._

_Warning: teacher/kid relationships, mild language, bullies, etc._

_Author's Note: WRITE REVIEWS!!! (Please)_

Chapter 3: Challenging Stares

As I got to the end of the hallway and went back into the office, I could of sworn that Mrs. Gorttman had called after me yelling, "Want to go out?"

_No, you fat lard!_ I mentally yelled back.

As I was just about to get out of the office, I think I heard Ms. Hunney look up from her game and ask me what was wrong. Of course, I couldn't tell her what was wrong because I had already left the office. Even if I hadn't left the office I wouldn't of told her, though.

I got to class just before the bell rang and sat in the back in my usual seet. My usual seet is all the way in the back and to the left, right next to the windows.

Everybody was there already. No, not everybody. The Huge Crew wasn't there. Now you may be wondering who they are; they are the people that bully everybody around. Since today is Friday, its my turn to get picked on.

I let them pick on me, and pretend to be hurt. They won't leave me alone if I don't. They pick on all the 'clueless' girls and boys. In other words, not the jocks or preps.

"Class, please settle down." Our homeroom teacher calls from the front, shushing everybody. As he was about to talk, the Huge Crew came in. "Ah, nice of you all to join us," he said mockingly, checking the crew's leader out.

"Whatever." Tiffany, the leader, declared as her group followed her to their normal seets.

Our homeroom teacher, Mr. L, slapped a note on Tiffany's desk and she read it. Since she can't read that well, I spent the time wondering what the 'L' in his name stood for.

When she was done reading it she stood up. Her gang attempted to follow her, but Mr. L just told them that she had to go to the guidence counciler's office.

As she left, Mr. L slapped her butt. She got really pissed of and attempted to punch him, but he was used to the morning routine and just ducked, like always. Tiffany ran the rest of the way as her gang glared at Mr. L for the millionth time this year.

Their glares then turned to me. After a moment, they smirked and pounded their fists into their hands, as if my face were their hand. I just gave them an emotionless stare, as if challenging them.


	4. Nightmare High

_Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or Tala. I do own Mr. Clark, though._

_Warning: unpleasant singing, mild language, etc._

_Author's Note: Holla to ya peeps homie!_

Chapter 4: Nightmare High

Tala's POV

I had just been dropped off at my new school, 'Nightmare High', or something like that. It looked kind of evil. I mean, if you saw a big building with all the bricks falling out, the green grass dying, the trees looking like hands trying to pull you down to the depths of the earth, and a welcome sign that said "Welcome to Nightmare High, where all your dreams will come true", you'd think it was evil too.

This big, ugly man came out of the school and waved at you. "What the heck?" I muttered to myself, walking over to him. "Who are you?" I asked loud enough for him to hear me, while keeping my face and voice icey cold.

"My name is Mr. Clark, and I will be your new princable." His voice was high-pitched and squeaky. "Welcome to Nightmare High, where we'll treat you like we treat a monkey at the zoo."

"What?"

"Uh- nothing."

So he led me to an office type room. It was so cold I could see my own breath. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the temperature on the thermestat: 32 degrees, cold enough to make water into ice.

He motioned for me to sit, so I did. The chair was even colder than the room, and as soon as I sat in it I had to jump up. I mean, I was used to cold temperatures, living in Russia and all, but this was ridiculous.

"Tala Valcov, correct?" Mr. Clark asked from behind his oak wood desk.

I nodded, and he sighed. "Mr. Valcov, since you are new here, you will have an escort for the first couple of days." I nodded again. "Your escorts name is Vanilla Girl."

"Excuse me?" I asked completely confused. I mean, nobody could be named 'Vanilla Girl'. Thats just wierd. It had to be a nickname.

"Vanilla Girl," he repeated. "Her name is Vanilla Girl."

"Thats impossible," I stated. Bad idea. 'Why?' you may ask. Because he broke out into song.

_(Whitney) Impossible!_

_For a plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage_

_Impossible_

_For a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in mairrage_

_And four white mice could never be turned to horses_

_Such falder-all-and-fiddley-dee-of-courses_

_Im-poss-i-ble!_

_But the world is full of zanies and fools_

_Who don't believe in sensible rules_

_and don't believe what sensible people say_

_And because-these-daff-and-dooly-ite(?)-dopes_

_keep-building-up-impossible-hopes,_

_impossible, things are happening everyday.'_

_Impossible (Brandy)_

_Impossible (Whitney)_

_Impossible (Brandy)_

_Impossible (Whitney)_

_Impossible (Brandy)_

_Impossible (Whitney)_

_Imposs-ible! (Whitney and Brandy)_

_(Brandy) It's possible, for a plain yellow pumpkin and a prince to join in_

_marriage_

_Quite possible, for a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in marriage_

_(Whitney) And four white mice are easily turned to horses_

_Such falder-all-and-fiddley-dee-of-courses_

_(Brandy) Quite Poss-i-ble!_

_For the world is full of zanies and fools (Brandy)_

_Who don't believe in sensible rules (Whitney)_

_and don't believe what sensible people say (Brandy)_

_And because-these-daff-and-dooly-ite(?)-dopes_

_keep-building-up-impossible-hopes,_

_impossible, things are happening ev-ery-day. (Both)_

_and so Cinderella goes to the ball_

_This guy is insane..._ Was all I could think.

"Nothing is impossible!" he squeaked happily. "So anyway, you will be meeting Miss Girl at lunch time in Ms. Gorttam's office. Shes the guidence counciler here. Until then, you can explore."

I jumped up as quickly as I could and left. Why? He began to sing again. It was something about exploring, I think...

So anyway, I started to explore. And let me tell, Nightmare High is one big school. Well, it looks like this year is going to be interesting.


	5. Lunch Time Will Always Come Again

Disclaimer: I don't own Tala or Beyblade, but I do own all my original characters (Vanilla, Mrs. Gorttam, Mrs. Hunney, Tiffany, and I think that's it for this chapter).

Author's Note: Sorry that I haven't updated in forever, but I don't really know how I should word this. I know what I wanna say, but… Oh, and thanks for the ONE REVIEW! Jeez, is only one person willing to take off time from their busy schedule to write a sentence to encourage me to continue!?

Chapter 5: Lunch Time Will Always Come Again

(Original POV)

I hate lunch. I never have any where to sit. All the tables are jam-packed with people, and the growing population doesn't help. So anyway, I walked into the cafeteria with my freshly bought lunch. Scanning over the seats available I saw none were left. Then I (unfortunately) remembered I was supposed to go to Mrs. Gorttam. Yay Me.

So I took my wet lunch tray and walked down the silent hallway. Very, very silent. The only noise that could be heard was my sneakers hitting against the linoleum floors (which are this putrid shade of brown, I might add), which sounded like missiles launching with every step I took. I got there and balanced my tray on my arm and opened the heavy door with my free hand. Mrs. Hunney was playing this game called Stressre on the computer and didn't notice me until the large door creaked shut.

Was it cold in here or was it just me?

"Hello, Miss Girl. Mrs. Gorttam will see you now. She says there's a new student for you to escort; he's a hotty. I saw him myself; I was just sitting here and doing work when he entered the office looking mad. When I asked him what was wrong he just said he ran into Tiffany and walked into Mrs. Gorttam's office. I think that's her new husband or…. " But I didn't here the rest because I had already walked into the destined office. Didn't she ever stop talking?

I didn't spare them a passing glance. I just sat down in one of the leather chairs, looked down at my food, and began eating.

"Why hello Miss Girl. I believe you're late," she said testily in her hippie voice. I shrugged. I mean, you would have shrugged too. There's really no way to respond to someone telling you you're late without being able to voice an excuse. "Anyway-" she said suddenly with a new perk in her voice- "This is Tala Viagra or Valentine or something like that." I could feel her eyes boring into my head.

I could also hear the boy next to me shift slightly in what I'm guessing would be hatred. "It's Valcov." His voice was like ice. But hey, I couldn't blame him. He was in the one and only Nightmare High.

"Of course it is," she said in an uncaring way, continuing to stare at me. God I wanna transfer. I heard him grunt angrily and out of the corner of my eye saw his slender fingers tighten on the arms of the lumpy black chair.

I stood up suddenly, letting my empty tray fall to the ground. I grabbed his wrist without looking at him and basically dragged him out of there. He'd thank me later… I hope.

I marched him past Mrs. Hunney, who gave us a weird look, down the silent hallway with the ugly floor and around a corner into a deserted classroom.

"I hate her already," he said slightly distractedly. I took out my notebook and wrote in clear, blue letters, _You have no idea. Believe me, you're on her list now. You might wanna close your curtains when you're getting dressed,_ and pushed it into his arms. He read over it, then looked up at me. I had my eyes closed, leaning against an old, squeaking desk. I could tell he was looking at me for an explanation. I just took the notebook and wrote about an inch below what I had just written (opening my eyes so I could write neatly), _Trust me. I've been in this school district forever. I know what I'm talking about,_ and handed it back to him. He looked at me after reading it quickly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you just say that? It takes too long to write." I took the notebook and wrote _I don't talk; I'm a mute. I can talk, but I opt not too._ I showed it to him long enough for him to see it, then put it back in my bag and grabbed him wrist again, walking this time into the lunch room, pointed to the lunch line, where the last students were getting their lunches, and let go of his wrist to go sit in an abandoned seat on the other side of the room. And I did all this without catching a glimpse of what he looks like. Impressive, ne?


	6. Location and Timing

_Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. I do own Vanilla, Mr. Smith, and Mrs. Whatserface._

_Note: My computer is being gay, so I can guarantee you there will be mistakes that I've missed during editing. Oh, and I'm really sorry it took so long for me to update; I'm running out of ideas, people. And I've been busy with school; I'll try to update every week, though._

_Vanilla Girl's Story of a Nobody_

_By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps_

There are two things I've noticed that a lot of people talk about nonstop: location and timing.

Everyone and anyone that's even ever seen a business knows the phrase "Location, location, location!" And let me tell you, there must be a bunch of businesses out there.

"Location, location, and lo-ca-tion!" OMG would he ever shut up!? "As you all know, location is the very essence of what makes a business good or not. It also effects how many people come to your business. Now, location—it's a very important thing, as any businessman can assure, but, then again, the product your selling is also just as important. Well, maybe not _as_ important, but still very important."

Do you know what…? I think—and I might be wrong here—that location is important. I know! Such a crazy thought, Vanilla!' or Don't talk crazy talk, Vanilla!' is in order here.

Fortunately for me and the other students that were having their brains fried, the bell rung just at that moment. Finally! Enough lost brain cells for today. "Oh, and students!" Mr. Smith (what a generic name…), the **business** class teacher announced before people could hurtle out of the door, "Don't forget to come to the big business meeting tonight!"

If I was a lesser person I might have unsheathed a long list of profanity.

So anyway, I managed to get to the other side of the hallway—the side where the flow and jostle pushed to the left of the school. One time I was unfortunate enough to be in the line right in-between the two sides. I'll never do that again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the hottest boy I'd ever seen…in the middle of the two sides.

I pushed myself to the middle and let myself fall back in the side closer to the business room, getting to the part where the boy was. I got a grip on his upper right and wheeled him around, into the side I had been in before. Cause you know what? I really don't care if he had to go the other way or not.

Saying he was gorgeous would have been an understatement. He had a slightly darker shade of red hair than mine that was spiked slightly in the back. He also had these piercing ice blue eyes… Boy, if looks could kill.

"You don't want to be caught in the middle," I called back to him over the roar of the hallway. "Last time I was in the middle I was out of school for a week." He didn't answer, but I knew he was still there because I still had a firm grip on him muscular arm and was dragging him along with me. Oh, he's so cute! "My names Vanilla, what's your name?"

"TalaValcov," he replied. Wait…_the_ Tala Valcov!? Wasn't I supposed to show him around school?

"Sorry about before," --and that was all I said for the rest of the day. After all, I _am_ a mute.

Tala's POV (10 minutes before)

They say that timing is everything, but I never knew it was _that_ important.

"It's all in the timing, everyone. If you time even one little teeny tiny thing even a millisecond wrong you could lose a limb…or die! Oh, but wouldn't that be FUN!? So anyway, back to timing." Who is she again? "Without the correct timing we would all just be a bunch of barbaric baboons!" Does she know she has chocolate pudding all over her face? "What you're doing isn't important—only the timing."

5…4…3…2…1…BRING BRING!!

When the bell had finally rung I hopped up and calmly raced for the door (though it's a mystery how), ready to barrel it down if it wasn't open. "Oh, students!" NOOOOOOO!!!! "Don't forget to bring your books tomorrow!"

I got into the hallway.

Oh…. My…. God…

It reminded me of a sea...or the highway. I saw that on my side everyone was going right, and on the other side everyone was going left. Why oh why did I have to go left? Do you hate me God? So I ventured out, trying to push and run past everyone going to the right, but failed miserably when I reached the cross road in-between the two lanes. The people knocked me around in a circle, not even caring or noticing that I would be late if this kept up.

I suddenly felt a strong grip on my upper arm and I was dragged into the lane going left. Finally somebody saved me!

The color drained from my face.

It was Vanilla.

"You don't want to be caught in the middle," she called back to me over the roar of the hallway's car-like crowd. "Last time I was in the middle I was out of school for a week." What was I supposed to say? I was about to say I see why', but she cut me off.

"My names Vanilla, what's your name?"

"TalaValcov," I replied. What class did she come from? She definitely wasn't in Daredevils for Dummies' with Mrs. Whatserface; I'd checked. Wait…how'd I even get in it? I didn't even pick any courses…

"Sorry about before," --and that was all she said for the rest of the day. After all, she _was_ a mute.


	7. Queen Tiffany Has Left the Castle

Vanilla Girl's Story of a Nobody

Chapter 7: "Queen Tiffany Has Left the Castle"

By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps

Once upon a time in a castle far, far away there was a beautiful princess named Vanilla. But some people were jealous of Vanilla! So those jealous meany-heads were banished, but they came back and beat up poor Princess Vanilla. Vanilla was very, very sad, but Kind L didn't care; he was too busy trying to persuade Queen Tiffany to sit down on her thrown in the middle of the kingdom's castle. So the young princess sat down on the throw pillow made of pure silk and watched as the queen sat down, only to find she was thirsty! So the queen asked her husband if she could go find a servant to fetch a pale of water. King L agreed, and Queen Tiffany wasn't seen for a long while. The king got worried so sent the beautiful princess out to find her.

"Come on out! Where are you Bubble Butt?" What? Can't a girl vent? "I know you're out here!" I'm so gonna get beat up again for this. "Helloooooooooooooooo?"

"Shhhh!" a nearby teacher shouted heatedly, slamming the door shut with a snap.

"Well, sorry," I said to myself quietly in mock-thanks.

Now where was that meany-headed Bubble Butt?

Oh well.

So I walked down the ugly hall, with its brown floors and its green walls, to the library. Almost everyday there's a cart of new books by the check out-check in desk. I quickly checked in and looked over the books. _The Living, the Dead, and the Bewitched_? No. _Gargoyles Unleashed_? No. _Absolutely, Positively, NOT SAD_? Eh, why not? I picked up the book with the colorful cover, reading over the back. OK, so out of what I got from reading the back of the book, I found out this book is about a square-dancing boy that goes to junior high and nobody likes him because his pet elephant can burp the ABC's and talk in Spanish. Nice. That's a keeper. Looking at the other books I had seen, I found out _The Living, the Dead, and the Bewitched_ is about this vampire and this cute super model who he falls in love with. So he can be with her he makes her think she's a vampire too, ending in her ultimate death and a very unhappy vampire. The other book, _Gargoyles Unleashed_, is a history book about cheese and why it is used in modern toilet paper.

Gasp! Hot boy—I mean, Tala—approaching fast!

"Vanilla," he said panting, "I need to hide."

I nodded and took hold of his upper arm, steering him behind a large shelf of books about animals. He sighed. I gave him the Look'.

"Well," he whispered after noticing the Look', "that girl, Tiffany, I think, keeps telling me I'm going to be her husband and she's going to bear my children."

"Oh. Then that's acceptable."

Tala's POV

Tiffany is scary.

The day she bears my child is the day I die from sunburn in Russia in the middle of winter.

This whole "Tiffany Thing" started when I was in Spanish class…

_Flash back!_

"_Mi nombre es Tiffany," a rather pudgy girl with mud-like brown eyes said while walking up to me. Wait. Did I say walk? I meant_ strut_. "Usted es…?"_

_Now, not knowing a word of Spanish, I think I was pretty smart, knowing "nombre" meant "name". So, siding with my better judgement, I said what I'd heard Dora the Explorer say._

"_No comprendo."_

"_Would you like me to tutor you?" She flipped her obviously dyed curly blonde hair and I saw her fat butt cheeks and huge (obviously plastic-surgerized) breasts jiggle disgustingly._

_It was like watching a pig do the mash potato._

"_No, thank y--"_

"_Your gonna marry me, and we're gonna have eight kids! We'll have four boys and four girls, and call them Zeb, Pebbles, Lake, God, Lugia, Wron (pronounced: Rom as in CD-rom), Beatrice, and Maryellen! And if not"—her eyes flashed malice as she lowered her voice to a dangerous level—"well, lets just say Mrs. Gorttam won't have anything to look at anymore."_

_End flash back._

Gosh. Girl needs a life.

---

Disclaimer: Mr. L, Tiffany, and Vanilla are the only things in this chapter that I own. Beyblade belongs to Takao Aoki.

Note: I have no clue how I came up with this chapter…I wouldn't even have written it if it wasn't for horsesrocketh. I tried to make it longer, but it's hard. Oh, and sorry if you think the flash back is too short; I hate long flash backs unless they're written well.


	8. Golly Gosh Gee Willickers, Mr Yoder!

Author's Note: Blah, blah, blah. OMG I'm sooo tired right now, and you know what that means! Lots of errors and not enough brain juice! Yay!!! So this is the -what is it? Eighth chapter? Gosh, you people are wearing me out—I had actually planned to take a yearlong brake at chapter six. Gosh. You people. I also haven't been writing much because I have a very, very big test coming up about the presidents, and I can't seem to remember what the XYZ Affair was. But I know it had to do with Adams and France in 18-something… This one isn't as long as it looks; there's so much random stuff in this… Please tell me if this chapter is good or not, because if it's not I'll redo it and make it better. I'm just really tired right now.

Disclaimer: Do I have to keep telling you? Listen now or forever hold your peace: I do not own Tala (from Beyblade). I do, however, own Mr. Yoder, Vanessa, Vanilla, and Tiffany.

Vanilla Girl's Story of a Nobody

Act 8: "Golly Gosh Gee Willickers, Mr. Yoder!"

By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps

"Golly Gosh Gee Willickers, Mr. Yoder! How do we take note?"

"That is a very good question, Vanessa! For an example of how to take notes, we will be taking practice notes on Spongebob."

…Who?

"We will be doing this--"

Golly Gosh Gee Willickers, Mr. Yoder! The bell just rang!

"—tomorrow."

Mr. Yoder (a.k.a. the Golly Gosh Gee Willickers Guy') is a nice guy and all, but he's just so…… _gay._ I mean, how are we supposed to enjoy American Studies with this guy!? Do you know what he does at night, when nobody is watching!?

Me neither.

So, walkin' from the classroom, chewin' my bubble gum, makin' sure Tiffany was way out of sight, I walked on the half of the hall that was going toward the door. After all, the Golly Gosh Gee Willicker bell just rang.

Wait… wasn't Tala supposed to be with me?

Oh well.

He'll turn up eventually.

Don't I have that business meeting tonight?

Vanessa is in that class…

La clase de negocio con Vanessa…

So anyway, walking down the hall with these _interesting_ thoughts in my head, I was finally able to make it to my bus, number 20. I stepped up the large gray step at least three feet off the ground and got hold of the handrail. Pulling myself up, I found I was face to face with the hot kid.

I mean Tala.

"Hi." Is it just me or does he seem tense? "Where. Were. You?" he breathed in pure furry. Please, please don't punch me.

"In class."

"Then why are you on the bus?"

"Class is over."

He glared… Oh, what a pretty glare… Cold as ice, and sharp as glass… Oh, I could get lost in that glare…

Wait… Are you still listening to me!?

Please excuse the last interruption.

And lets be thankful he doesn't hit (or punch) pretty girls.

Now, a place to sit…


	9. I'm ROFL for LOL!

Vanilla Girl's Story of a Nobody

Chapter 9: I'm ROFL for LOL!

By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps

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OK, you want to know something really, really cool? It's called peripheral vision. You want to know something else that's really, really cool? They're called lines.

Now, peripheral vision is basically the thing that states even though I'm sitting here, staring right at you, I can see the window to my right without turning my head or eyes to look at it.

Lines, on the other hand, never stray from their path. They're always facing the same way, never twisting and bending and if your eyes were lines, you and I probably wouldn't even be able to see the window three feet away from us.

----

"Yo, Vanilla-Girlie!"

I turned to see Mr. L, oh joy.

I stopped searching threw my locker for my sweatshirt (because it's so freakin' cold in this school during winter), and turned around completely to face him. Is it just me or is he getting bags under his eyes? He needs to sleep less—then we'll be able to skip class.

"…?"

"Have you seen that beauty of a girl Tiffany?" he asked.

Of course he asks _me_ where his fiancé is. I mean really, why would I know where the Fat Lard Lady is?

"No. I'm going to be late for class," I said, grabbed my sweatshirt, and headed off to the greatest class in the world: math.

Now, a lot of people—and I mean _a lot of people_—don't like math. Well, I don't either, but the teacher is really cool, and he sometimes gets off subject. One time we spent the whole class talking about samurais, and another time we watched a cheerleading movie because there are three cheerleaders in the class. Mr. Ghan rocks our socks.

Oh, and before I forget, if you wanted to know more about the shelter, it's closing tomorrow. Yes, behold this calendar and you will indeed see that it is Thursday, and Tammy's Animals closes on, yes, you guessed it, Friday. I know there had to be a way to save it; I just don't know how I'm going to do with the little cash in my pocket and the rest of the day booked (Later I have Business Class and then I have to teach Tala about peripheral vision; apparently he didn't know that Mr. Ghan could look at one end of the room and know who has their hands up on the other side of the classroom. Poor hot kid got scared out of his mind when he was unexpectedly called on for the toughest problem of the day It was 89(6+4)-x -2 or (7+9)3+4-95/x -936'.).

Mr. Ghan's room smells kind of bad after lunch because of the kids that had lunch detention's lunches. It's kind of OK though, because he opens the windows and the door. His room is usually cold, and its walls are bare. The only things on of them are large boards with typed papers on them with wise word on them, such as "Worry is like a merry-go-round only it rides you" and "Swallow your pride occasionally—it's nonfattening!" It sounds gy, I know, but its actually pretty cool. He also had these white boards that he uses instead of chalkboards, and he has every marker color known to man—blue, red, yellow (though it's hard to see), black, purple, etc. On two of the smaller boards are thought's of the day and random current facts. So far nine-thirtieths of the school year is completed—I read it on the Random Current Facts Board.

Walking into the bare room I saw that on the back board we had homework; I quickly jotted it down, and then copied the Day's Thought down into my little black notebook (Today the thought happened to be "Anger is one letter removed from danger".). On the moveable whiteboard was the warm-up problem. It was called "Unique". This is how it went:

"Unique?

Write what makes these words unique—different from any other words in the English language—and then work on the problem on the front board.

1. 'Facetious'

2. 'Bookkeeper'

3. 'Strengths'

The problem on the front board was this:

"What is the maximum number of sections a circle can be divided into using only four straight lines?"

The Unique problem was easy. Number one is all the vowels are in order (a, e, i, o, u), number two is there are three pairs in succession (ookkee'), and number three is there is only one vowel in a nine letter word (e). As for the circle problem, I got eleven. You draw a line where ever, a line going threw the first line at an angle different than ninety degrees, another line going threw both of those lines, and a fourth line going threw all three of those lines. Mr. Ghan went over them quickly after checking homework, then started the lesson.

Now, I know people don't like math, so I won't go into this class any further.

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--T-Dog's POV--

Next class: Daredevils for Dummies with Mrs. Whatserface. Oh joy. Can't you just feel the waves of excitement pouring out of every pore on my body? I know you can, thanks for living.

OK, so it all comes down to this: Mrs. Whatserface is a barbaric baboon who likes chocolate pudding, is pregnant, and enjoys crashing motorcycles into brick walls and then bouncing back with her huge stomach. Fun, right?

Where's Vanilla when you need her?

Mrs. Whatserface's room is purple with blue carpeting, and she has three large green chalkboards that are never clean. She's got two jumbo sized pieces of chalk that she sticks in her loose bun of amber hair, giving her yellow streaks when she takes it out to write on the dirty boards. She seems to do the same lesson everyday. It's always about timing. Or chocolate pudding. One day she had us all go out and get her different kinds of chocolate pudding for homework.

Mrs. Whatserface doesn't have "peripheral vision", whatever that is. Vanilla told me she only sees in lines; what she's focusing on is all she can see. But, of course, Vanilla did forget to mention she has eyes like a lizard that can move in different directions at the same time. It's really freaky. Oh, and one is purple and the other is green. I think that's how she got the colors for the room. Either that or she's also color-blind.

Today's lesson was (major gasp) about timing, although the class was in the computer lab, for a change. On the computer we were supposed to be looking up different daredevil jobs on the websites she had given us while we listened to her talk. Some of the sites included GirlPower.gov, and Instead, I got into AIM. Yay!

This school allows AIM because if you're in the computer lab and finish whatever you're doing, the district wants us to be social. They auto program the AIM system so you already have everyone else's e-mail and screen name. Mine are tvalcovnightmare.gov and tvalcov95. The 95 is at the end because that's the year I graduate high school. How original.

Can you believe there was only one other person in the whole district on? It was rharada95. At least this person was in my grade.

**tvalcov95**: yo

**rharada95**: heyy

**tvalcov95**: so wut class r u in?

**rharada95**: business. were in the lab to work on publisher for l/a projects

**tvalcov95**: l/a?

**rharada95**: language arts

**tvalcov95**: o

**tvalcov95**: y didnt u just say that?

**rharada95**: too long to type

**tvalcov95**: so wuts ur 1st name?

**rharada95**: riku

**tvalcov95**: cool. do i kno u?

**rharada95:** i dunno. wuts ur 1st name?

**tvalcov95**: tala

**rharada95**: o

**rharada95**: well, I gtg. might talk to ya later t-dog. xxoo

_rharada95 has signed off_

**tvalcov95**: wait! i don't kno if i kno u or not!

I knew Riku wasn't going to come back and talk to me, but I had to at least try and figure out who this guy (or girl) is, right?

----

Author's Note: Well, sorry it took forever, but I did a good job making it slightly longer, right? This one, I think, came to me a little more quickly because some of this is based off of my real life. I already have a good idea for the next chapter, so sit tight my pretties!

Disclaimer: Tala doesn't belong to me, but everyone and everything else does, including this plot.


	10. Mix It Up Day

Vanilla Girl's Story of a Nobody

Act 10: Mix It Up Day

By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps

A/N: OMG, I am so, _so_ sorry I haven't updated in a long time. I actually wasn't planning on updating today, but this—_this_—monstrosity of a story about Mix It Up Day is 99.9 true. The other .1 that isn't true is my guidance counselor's name, math teacher's name, and period-before-lunch-teacher's name, and I have friends.

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Mix It Up Day.

Mix—It—Up—Day.

Oh my goodness, has your school ever had a Mix It Up Day'? If you reply yes', I pity you, if you reply no', then I want you to be so nice to new people you meet in school that it's creepy and they run home and kill themselves.

I'm not even joking.

Today we had a Mix It Up Day', and all I can say is oh my goodness'. I'm not even joking.

It all started when the stupid guidance counselor, Mrs. Gorttam, thought that we needed—how did she put it?—_a better and more reliable learning environment so we can all meet new people and get along._ And so, she asked Principal Clark if we could have a Mix It Up Day'.

Mix It Up Day is where when you walk into lunch the aids are holding these baskets of jolly ranchers. They give you a jolly rancher and whatever color it is, is the color table you have to sit at (they color code the tables with paper and balloons). There are blue, pink, red, and green tables/jolly ranchers, and, when you get to the table with the new people you don't even recognize, you have to use these cards in the middle of the table in Styrofoam bowls with the stupidest questions on them to get to know them.

And believe me, these questions are stupid. There's "What's your favorite season and why?" "How you ever been bullied?" "What do you think of your classes?" "What do you (not who do you) hate?" and "What was your best or worst incident including a vacuum cleaner?"

Pretty nifty, huh?

And so Gorttam issued this thing and oh my goodness, I can not believe it.

-----

And so there I was, picking up my stuff a few seconds before the bell rung to indicate the beginning of lunch, minding my own business, and BOOM!, Mr. L announced that there would be a Mix It Up Day'.

Why couldn't I be sick today?

Mix It Up Day is social suicide, and I don't wanna die.

Why, oh why, couldn't I get a lunch detention?

So there I was, walking slowly to my locker, books and binders in hand. I slowly, _slowly_ put in the combination—clockwise twice, stop at 30, counterclockwise once, stop at 1, clockwise right to 35, and kick locker open. I got my stuff for math with Mr. Ghan, and slowly, _slowly_ closed the locker. Kayla and Alyssa (did I forget to tell you I made a few friends on the school AIM system?) were waiting for me at their lockers only a few down from mine, and we slowly, quietly walked down to the cafeteria. We put our books on the shelves outside the cafeteria, and walked in.

Oh my goodness.

There were star, circle, heart, and triangle balloons everywhere. An aid, Mrs. Santangeloos (who is also the Home Ec. teacher), walked up to us and gave me a green jolly rancher, Kayla a blue, and Alyssa a pink.

Thanks Mrs. Santangeloos.

And so I went to the lunch line and got some Stromboli. I waited for the line to move so I could pay and sit with the soon-to-be-new-friends. While waiting in the slow as malaises line, Sr. Campbell walked into the secluded line and got some Stromboli. Sr. Campbell is the substitute Spanish teacher, but today is his last day subbing. Now we have Señorita Stasko. She's a mean lady who wears ugly turtle-neck sweaters.

"Hey, Vanilla," Sr. Campbell said in his deep voice. I looked up at him (because he is _very_ tall), and said "Hi" in a quiet voice. He deserves some gratitude for not killing us. Yeah, we're that bad during first period.

Then I got to the end of the line and paid.

Oh my goodness.

Why can't Mrs. Gorttam have wanted to eat lunch with me today?

I looked for an empty seat at a green table, and saw a green circle with four other people at it. People I didn't know.

So I sat.

We didn't speak, didn't exchange names, didn't use the cards in the Styrofoam bowls to start conversations, didn't talk about school or bullies or teachers or vacuum cleaners.

We just sat there and ate, like you're supposed to at lunch.

I knew one of the kids from Mr. L's class, but we didn't say anything.

And lunch was over, just like that.


End file.
